by Joan Moules
Annie half-listened to this talk when she was in Johnny’s house, and pondered about it in the privacy of her bedroom at home. She had never taken notice of politics and government before, but now, with her and Johnny’s previous life styles being so different from each other, she began to think about the kind of Britain she wanted for them both.
She was still worried in case she was expecting a baby, yet part of her refused to believe this could be so. Physically she felt fine. Each day she ran her hands across her stomach and it was as flat as before. The tenderness in her breasts persisted. In two days’ time her period was due again. And she was sure that this time it would come. Beyond that she refused to think.
When it didn’t she knew she had to do something about it. She did feel sick now, but it was the deep-welled sickness of desperation. Whatever would they do if she was with child?
She made an appointment with a doctor in London, picking his name from the telephone book in the office, and phoning from a call-box during her lunch-hour. The doctor, when she visited, was very gentle with her.
‘How old are you and what makes you think you might be pregnant?’ he asked.
‘Sixteen,’ she said tremulously, ‘and, yes I could be. I have a regular boyfriend and …’ close to tears now, and not knowing how to put the act into words her voice dropped to barely a whisper. ‘We … I … we have loved each other.’
The doctor looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I’ll do some tests,’ he said. She paid his receptionist and tried to put the matter from her mind but it was impossible. She had to wait a week for the results of the tests, and she didn’t know how she was going to get through it. Unless by some miracle she came on before the week was up.
Her father was now on the mend, although still in hospital. ‘No sudden shocks or stresses,’ the heart specialist told them.
‘Of course not,’ Mrs Evesham said. ‘We lead a very quiet sedate life, there will be nothing to bring on another attack. I expect it was the strain of the war.’
Annie wondered how that could be, but she supposed that even for her father and mother, who appeared to have carried on their lives in the same way apart from a few restrictions they could do nothing about, the war had taken its toll. She doubted if she could have told them about a baby in the normal way, but she knew now that, if it were true, telling them in the circumstances was impossible. So she began to make plans. But her brain didn’t seem to be functioning fully any longer, and she only got as far as returning to Winchurch or Bushton, finding a job and some lodgings, and having her baby there, away from everyone she knew in London.
And Johnny, she would have to tell him and he would be the one to visit her then, as she had travelled to meet him every week when they were parted before. And as soon as they legally could they would marry. Unless, unless he rejected her then. Boys didn’t marry girls who … but Johnny would. It was his baby too. And somehow they would have to manage until that time. Annie cast her mind back to all the books she had read where a girl had a child out of wedlock.
She returned to see the doctor on 7 May, and had her worst suspicions confirmed. He advised her to see her own doctor and to tell her parents, which in the quiet of his room and with his concerned eyes upon her, she agreed to do.
She had to jostle her way through the crowds when she came from the surgery, for in spite of daylong speculation about a German surrender, and no official announcement, the people were celebrating anyway. There seemed to be thousands about, on the pavements, in the roads, some even climbing the lampposts!
Her pregnancy wasn’t such a shock as she had thought it would be. Over the past few weeks, in spite of telling herself that it was not so, she had partly prepared herself for the news. She wasn’t seeing Johnny until the following day, and she felt no desire to change the arrangement. It would give her time to plan her words.…
The knowledge that the tests were positive didn’t truly hit her until she was on the way to Johnny’s house the following evening. Winston Churchill had broadcast to the nation at three o’clock, and Victory in Europe was official. At nine the King was to be on the air. The war was over, and the peace had started. But she had to tell Johnny about the baby. Before she left she checked with her mother that she would be all right.
‘Yes, thank you, Anita. I shall visit your father as usual, then come home and listen to the happy news on the wireless.’
She didn’t even remonstrate with her to ‘be careful’, Annie went with a heavy heart now to meet Johnny.
The family had been joined by Jim’s wife, Doris, her parents, and several neighbours, and the rejoicing was in full swing when Annie arrived. Everyone there kissed her, someone gave her a Union Jack and Johnny put his arm round her shoulder and said, ‘We’re all going up to Trafalgar Square, that all right with you, Annie?’
‘I … yes … I suppose so.’
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘It’s going to be a night we’ll always remember,’ he said.
At one point during the dancing Annie thought, maybe I shall lose the baby doing this, isn’t that what happens sometimes? Maybe I won’t need to tell Johnny at all.
She seemed to be standing outside herself, conscious of the dancers and the singing, the jubilation and cap-over-the-windmill atmosphere; yet a small core held back and wrestled still with the shattering knowledge that she was expecting a baby, and she had to tell Johnny.
At ten minutes to twelve she could suddenly stand it no longer. ‘Johnny.’ She plucked at his sleeve. ‘Johnny, can we go somewhere quiet? I have to talk to you.’
Amazed, he looked at her. ‘You’ve got to be joking, gal, where would you find somewhere quiet on a night like this?’
‘I don’t know Johnny, but we must. It’s terribly important.’
‘All right. Keep close to me and we’ll try to find our way out of this crowd.’ Holding hands they wove in and out of the celebrators, several times getting caught up again in the exuberant dancing.
‘Come on, youngsters, tag on the end,’ an elderly man wearing a paper hat said, and he put his arm round Annie’s waist in an effort to get them to join his line of high-kicking, dancing people.
In a shop doorway, away from the concentrated crowds, Johnny took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. Some sailors going past called out cheerily. Annie pushed him away. ‘I want to talk, Johnny.’
‘What is it, Annie? You’ve gone as white as a sheet. Aren’t you well?’
‘I saw the doctor yesterday, Johnny, and I’m going to have a baby.’
At first he didn’t seem to understand. ‘You’re going to have a baby?’ he repeated.
When she didn’t answer he said again, ‘A baby?’
She nodded, for suddenly no further words would come.
‘But … oh Annie. When?’
‘In the … in the autumn. The doctor thought about November. Oh, Johnny, what are we going to do? I can’t, I can’t tell my people, it would kill Dad now.’
‘We’ll get married,’ he said. ‘Yes, we’ll be married sooner than we thought, that’s all.’
‘Will they let us, Johnny? How old do you have to be?’
‘I don’t know, Annie, but Mum’ll know. She’ll know what to do about the baby too. Oh Annie, does it hurt?’
She was crying as she said, ‘Of course it doesn’t, not yet anyway. Johnny, you do want to marry me, don’t you? I mean, you don’t have to, you know. I … I could go away somewhere and have the baby quietly. I’ve got some money saved, then it could, could be adopted….’
That seemed to jolt Johnny out of his stupor.
‘Never. It’s our kid. Maybe we’re a bit young to be parents, Annie, but we’ll manage. I’ll get a job, a better job, and we’ll find some rooms somewhere. Look, let’s . . let’s go home now.’ He looked at his watch. ‘The others won’t be in for ages – even Ron’s gone round to a pal’s house for the night, and we can sort ourselves out, like.’ Gently he put his arm round her again and kissed her, ‘Why, you’re s
hivering Annie. Are you cold? Come on, we’ll get home and have a nice cup of tea.’
They telephoned Mrs Evesham from the first box they came to, to find out how Annie’s father was and to tell her that Annie was staying the night with Johnny’s family. Then, while the rest of them were singing and dancing the hours away, Johnny and Annie sat together on the settee, holding hands and tremulously working out their future.
When the family returned about four o’clock in the morning, they were both asleep, Annie in Johnny’s bed upstairs, and Johnny on the bedchair downstairs.
It was the weekend before they had a chance to tell Johnny’s mother. They told her together, Johnny taking the lead.
‘Mum,’ he said, ‘we need some help. We’ve got ourselves in a mess and we don’t know the law about getting married.’
Mrs Bookman, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner dropped the saucepan she was just about to fill with water.
‘What sort of a mess?’ she said. Then, looking at the two strained faces, ‘Oh, my God, you’re only children yourselves.’
Mr Bookman and Ron were down at the pub. She pulled out a kitchen stool and sat down heavily on it. ‘You had better tell me everything. When is it due?’
By the time the others returned, dinner was cooking and the house was quiet. Even the wireless had been turned off, as Mr Bookman commented when he entered. ‘Thought you’d gone and left me, ducks,’ he said, putting his arm round his wife’s waist and swinging her round several times. ‘What’s the matter?’ He looked from one to the other. ‘You all look as though you dropped a quid and found a tanner.’
They told him; well, his wife told him. Ron was there too – Annie discovered there were few secrets in this family. A crisis for one was a crisis for them all.
‘You bloody young—’ but Mrs Bookman intervened. ‘It’s too late for that sort of talk, Charlie. We have to do what is best now for Johnny and Annie and … and the baby.’
‘What do your parents say about it?’ Mr Bookman turned to Annie and she saw tears glinting in his eyes.
‘They … they don’t know.’ In spite of her efforts she couldn’t stop her voice from quivering.
‘And they mustn’t know,’ Mrs Bookman said, looking at her husband. ‘Annie’s father is still in hospital recovering from a heart attack. He wouldn’t be able to stand the shock of news like this.’
‘He’ll have to know, or her mother will. It’ll be up to her whether she tells him or not.’
Mrs Bookman shook her head. ‘Poor woman’s got enough worry, and from what Annie tells me I doubt if they’d help her much. Although,’ she went on, turning to the girl, ‘many mothers say they’d turn you out, but when it comes to it they don’t.’
‘Mummy would.’
Mrs Bookman placed a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. ‘The way I see it is that we’re in the best position to help Johnny and Annie at the moment. Later, when your father is better, Annie, we can have a rethink, but for the present we’ll respect both your wishes and keep your secret.’
‘You can’t keep a thing like this secret.’ Charlie Bookman was pacing the tiny room, back and forth, back and forth.
‘We have to, if we don’t want her father’s death on our consciences. Listen, if Annie gets a job away somewhere … she has suggested returning to where she was evacuated, but I think that’s a bit risky. I hate being deceitful but it is the best thing in this case, I think. Johnny stays here and earns as much as he can, and when Annie can no longer work she returns to have the baby.’
‘Maggie, sometimes you take my breath away. There’s no room for a baby here.’
‘Of course there is,’ she replied calmly. ‘It won’t be for long, and during the time Annie’s waiting for the little ‘un to arrive Johnny will be looking for a job and a flat. He can do bar-work in the evenings, window-cleaning, there are a lot of odd jobs he can pick up if he searches around. And it won’t matter if it’s one room to start with, they can go on from there….’
Mr Bookman, and Ron too, put forward several more obstacles, but she dismissed them all. ‘You can always find a reason why not,’ she said quietly, ‘but it’s the baby you’ve got to think about now. Poor little mite didn’t ask to come into this world, but it’s on the way and it’s got two parents living, which is more than many have after this last six years. Who are we to deny it that? It’s our grandchild too, remember, and if you can’t help your own then it’s a poor look-out for the rest of humanity. Now if that dinner’s finished cooking we’ll stop talking about it while we eat. OK?’
‘OK,’ they all weakly agreed.
Annie didn’t think she could eat a thing, but with encouragement from the others she managed to get through.
Afterwards she followed Mrs B, as she had taken to calling her, into the tiny kitchen.
‘Let me help, I can’t just sit there,’ she said.
‘Get the cups out then, and bugger the tea ration. I suppose we’ll have plenty of the stuff again soon, now the war’s over. At least you’ll have a peacetime baby, Annie.’
But suddenly Annie couldn’t see for the tears rushing from her eyes. Stumbling towards the table she sat down on the bright-red stool and sobbed.
‘There, there, there my love, have a good cry and get it out of your system.’ Mrs Bookman bent over and comforted her as she might a very young child. When the weeping had subsided she said, ‘Listen, Annie, I’ve just had a wonderful idea. You can go and stay with Auntie Bess in the country.’
‘Auntie …’ the tears were still in her voice and she shuddered them away. ‘B-bess?’
‘That’s right. She’s a darling. She’s my aunt really – about seventy now but you’d never think it. She was widowed very young and she ran a cat’s-meat-shop afterwards. Later, when trade was bad she went to work in one of the big shops in the West End. Smart she was, and with a good brain. Got to be head of her department. Always wore lovely clothes. Anyway, about ten years ago she went to live in the country, little place hiding in the Sussex Downs. Tell you what, Annie, why don’t we go and see her. She loves company and she’s got a spare bedroom. Be ideal for you until your time comes. We could get you a wedding ring so you won’t have no unpleasantness like….’
‘I don’t know … and what will I do for money. I really need to keep on with my job for as long as I can. And it would be cheating to have a wedding-ring, wouldn’t it?’
‘Well now, as the law stands, you can’t marry without your parents’ consent until you’re twenty-one. But you can marry at sixteen with their consent. That poses problems, love, don’t it?’
‘It would mean I’d have to tell them? I wonder what they’d do? You know, Mrs B, I don’t believe they’d allow me to marry.’ In her mind she added, ‘Johnny’ but her tongue stayed silent.
‘Are we having a cuppa today or next week, Maggie?’ Charlie Bookman popped his head round the kitchen door. ‘We’re all bloody parched in here, gal.’
‘Just coming.’ She turned to Annie. ‘Think about it, love. You’ve got nothing to lose by coming to see her, have you now?’
Annie thought of nothing else for the rest of the day and most of that night. She knew she had to make her decision quickly, for Mrs B had told her that she would probably begin to ‘show’ within weeks. If she told her parents and obtained their consent to marry – but she simply couldn’t see that happening. Her mother would disown her, she was in no doubt about that. These last few years had wiped away any lingering dreams that she was anything other than an ornament for her family. Amodel daughter tucked away to boarding-school to be brought out and paraded now and then. Then there was her father’s condition to consider. Would the shock really kill him?
If they couldn’t marry yet, surely the best thing would be to accept Aunt Bessie’s hospitality until the baby was born. Beyond that her thoughts refused to travel. And it wasn’t certain that Aunt Bess would take her in anyway, although Johnny’s mum was so confident.
On Monday morning
Anita’s mother remarked how hollow-eyed she looked. ‘Too much celebrating,’ she said. ‘You look positively ill, child. You’d better see the doctor and ask him for a tonic. I can’t look after you as well as your father.’
‘I’m all right,’ she mumbled, ‘just tired.’
‘I’m not surprised, out every evening. With that boy you brought to the hospital, I suppose. Johnny something or other?’ Suddenly a different look appeared on her face and she screwed her eyes up in concentration. ‘That’s not that schoolboy you were messing around with at Buckingham Palace that time, is it?’
Annie faced her defiantly across the breakfast table. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it is, and we want to be married.’
‘Married. What nonsense. You’re only a child.’
‘No mother, I’m not. And you may as well know this too. I’m going to have a baby.’
She gripped the edge of the table and watched a dozen or more expressions roll across her mother’s face. At last Mrs Evesham spoke, seeming to have difficulty in getting the words out.
‘Anita, did – I hear – you – correctly? Did you say …’ she swallowed her words, then they came out in a rush, ‘did you say a baby?’
‘Yes.’ The girl lowered her head.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Pack your bags. I never want to see you in this house again. And don’t try cajoling your father into changing my mind either, because it won’t work.’
‘Johnny and I want to get married.’ Annie’s knuckles were white as she increased her hold on the edge of the table. ‘We need your permission.’